


Drabble challenge

by MarauderCracker



Category: Glee
Genre: Blangst, F/F, F/M, M/M, a collection of drabbles for a lot of glee pairings, circus!brittana, drabble challenge, hogwarts!Klaine, teacher!sebastian
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-02
Updated: 2013-09-02
Packaged: 2017-12-25 08:59:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 17
Words: 8,772
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/951190
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MarauderCracker/pseuds/MarauderCracker
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Broadway star Rachel and reporter Quinn.</p>
          </blockquote>





	1. Klaine

It’s funny how everyone agrees that driving in New York is suicidal, yet the streets are always drowning in cars. Cars and motorbikes and buses and bikes and kids with no survival instinct that skate between the other vehicles. 

And people, God. New York is full of people and full of life, and Kurt loves it more than he’s ever loved anything, but sometimes it feels heavy on his lungs and almost (almost, but not at all, not really) makes him want to go back to small town Ohio and its peaceful afternoons, its lazy Sundays. New York doesn’t have lazy Sundays, New York is always vibrating and wild.

Kurt Hummel is twenty years old and living the New-Yorker way of life. He goes to college and NYADA, rehearses for an independent play he’s taking part in soon, sketches fashion designs under his desk while taking calls at Vogue.com, and uses his weekend nights to make a few extra bucks as the bartender at a queer club in Brooklyn. The best kept secret of history is how does he do to hide the dark bags under his eyes after weeks and weeks of spending his nights studying, rehearsing or working. Or doing both or the three of them at the same time.

He is the very definition of a multitasker. He wants to achieve all of his dreams and he wants them now. He  _needs them A.S.A.P_ , he texts the barista he’s befriended at the Starbucks nearest to the building where Vogue is placed. He will now finish spell-checking this article for the online version of the magazine that some useless asshat wrote and sent without proof-reading (Kurt wonders if it’s New York that made him start cursing more, or if it’s just being away from his dad’s hearing range), take two more calls for his boss and call the security guard to keep an eye on his desk for exactly two minutes, and then run one block down the street, pick up the coffee he’s ordered, thank his friend with his brightest smile and come back as fast as he can.

He leaves his own cup at his desk, gives one to the security guard, walks down the hall to leave other two for the girls at the Press Office, and goes to knock at his boss’ door. “Isabelle? Here’s you coffee,” he calls through the thick wood. He knows his voice sounds just a little tired. There’s days where the constant flowing of life in the city makes him feel invencible, young, pulsating, immortal. There’s others where it seems to run so fast, so forcefully, that it drags all energy out of him. Days where Kurt feels like if the lights and noise and unbeliavable  _speed_  of New York’s life was feeding out of his own veins.

Maybe he just needs coffee. 

"Kurt, dear, come in!" Isabelle calls, and he pushes the door open. He expects to see her on her computer, typing at full speed, surrounded by papers sheets and rainbow colores post-its. Instead, her laptop is shut, all the papers are in a (not very neat, but it’s something) single pile, and the post-its… Well, no, they are still everywhere. And Isabelle is there, sitting behind her desk with her perfectly styled hair, a gorgeous dress and the brightest of smiles. Kurt thinks that, if he wasn’t undeniably gay, he would probably develop a crush on her. 

Speaking of undeniably gay, he now notices, there’s a guy sitting just across from Kurt’s boss. He’s half turned to look at Kurt, big wide eyes smiling at him. Kurt’s stomach does a backflip inside of him. 

"I was just about to call you. Kurt, this is Blaine Anderson. His mother is a dear friend of mine, and since he’s just moving from California to do a degree in music, and she wanted me to help him feel comfortable in the big city. And, since he’s your age and it seems that you both share a lot of interests, I was going to ask you if you would mind giving him a quick tour around?"

Kurt looks back at Isabelle, and a little voice in the inside of his head tells him that the reasonable thing would be to say no. He’s already too busy to add another responsability, and showing  _New York_  (does Isabelle even realize how big New York is, how many thing there are that need to be shown and appreciated in the city, how time-consuming a _quick tour around_  would be?) to a newcomer is most definitely a duty he doesn’t need. 

"Oh, well. I… No problem. I’m a little short of time, but I’m sure I can take a while to show you the cool parts of the city."

Blaine smiles so brightly that Kurt thinks that he will faint, and then he remembers that he left his cup of coffee at his desk. “So, uhm, I think my coffee got cold, so I could start by showing you the nearest Starbucks. The barista is called Santana and if you don’t tip her she will punch you, but she makes great lattes.”


	2. Kurtbastian

If they don’t stop making hearteyes at each other, Blaine swears he’s going to puke. Gosh, he doesn’t get them. The thing is that they are fighting. They are not making out, they are not promising each other undying love. They are calling each other “asshole” and “presumptuos bastard” and “prissy little princess” and who knows what else. Kurt is even trying to frown at all. He fails, of course, because he can’t ever pretend to be mad at Sebastian anymore. He attempts it anyways.

Blaine looks around for someone willing to help him, or at least share his suffering, but they all seem too focused in their chats. And Blaine is, once again, watching Sebastian and Kurt turn what started as a very normal conversation between three friends into a two-sided battle to death to see who is right. Blaine isn’t sure if any of them is right. Actually, he isn’t sure what are they arguing over. They are just trying to keep the other’s atention on themselves without really voicing their intentions.

Because that’s how they’ve always worked. Fighting and arguing in what Santana calls “a really weird kind of foreplay”. Blaine prefers to think it’s love, and Brittany and him sit together and watch them argue, betting over how longer they will have to wait before the both of them stop denying their feelings and finally make out. Santana just joins to roll her eyes at everyone, fill her nails or comment a simply “wanky” before leaving again, taking Brittany with her.

"Gosh," Blaine whispers to himself, leaning back on the couch to avoid being trapped when Kurt and Sebastian, one sitting at each of his sides, lean closer to each other. "I bet you twenty bucks," Sebastian says, smirking, and Blaine wonders what the hell are they betting on. He doesn’t remember where did the conversation begin. "Deal," Kurt answers, and he’s grinning in a way Blaine knows is very dangerous.

"Blaine, tiger, would you mind?" Sebastian asks, pushing Blaine to stand from the couch. The next thing he knows is that he’s watching his two best friends make out, and he really doesn’t have any idea of what they betted on. Anyways, he’s sure that Kurt will win. 


	3. Faberry (AU)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Broadway star Rachel and reporter Quinn.

"Uhm… Excuse me, Ms. Berry?" God, she hasn’t feel this dumb in her entire life. She’s a good journalist, she’s the best. She can tear apart any second place diva, destroy the facade of any super star and make even the most cryptic of celebrities reveal all of their secrets. And now she’s stuttering like she hasn’t since middle school.

"What can I help you with?" The actress says, obviously smiling because she’s seen the recorder and the journalist pass. Quinn mentally smacks herself (" _fuck, get yourself together_ ”) and tries to put on her best smile.

"I… My name is Quinn Fabray, from the New York Post. I was wondering if I could ask you a few questions?" She’s doing her best not to stare at Rachel’s Berry’s luscious lips, at her perfect smile and the way her hair is messy and still covered in glitter, falling over her face. She might be failing, but she’s doing her best.

"Oh, darling, I don’t think I can tonight. Jesse always drags me to get dinner with him after a premiere," she explains, and nods with her head towards where the actor is waiting for her, with a bouquet of roses. "But it would be lovely to give you an interview any other day. Here," Rachel grabs Quinn’s hand and takes a pen out of her pocket. "I’ll give you my number, you just call me."

Quinn blushes up to her forehead, but gathers the courage to ask, with her best professional tone, at least one question. “Hey, just so I can write anything tonight, can I say that you went to have dinner with your boyfriend after…” She starts, but the actress interrumpts her.

"Oh, honey, no. Jesse is not my boyfriend, not at all. He’s, let’s say… Not my type."

Rachel struts out in a hurricane of curls and glitter, with a last wink for Quinn and blowing kisses to all of her fans. Quinn really wishes that she meant what she meant. (She has her number, anyways, and plans on finding out.)


	4. Circus ! Brittana

When the circus arrives to town, Brittany is the first one to know. And, of course, the first one to want to go.  She wants pink cotton candy and to go into the house of mirrors to see the world all funny; to see clowns and tigers and men that eat ants and spit fire. She loves the circus, she loves all mysterious and magical things. Even though she might be a little old for these things, she still drags her friends with her and forces them to see all the shows and watch all the spectacles and run from tent to tent discovering all the amazing things.

At the house of mirrors, she sees herself with huge eyes and really tiny, tiny feet. All tall and all woobly, like she feels sometimes, when she smokes with Puck. And, in one mirror, she sees herself just as she thinks she is (but you can never be sure). But that mirror is the one that surprises her most. She sees, standing just behind her, a girl with dark skin, darker eyes and a dangerous smirk; a girl that asks her to follow. When she turns around, the girl is not there.

She looks for her full lips and long hair between the clowns, but all of them have eyes painted with hearts and stars, when her eyes were like the night in its entirety, like the very definition of love. She wonders if she could find her inside the little boxers where the contortionists hide, she thinks that maybe she bent in two and three and a thousand little smirks and hid under her steat, in the space between caution and curiosity. 

Brittany gets away from her friends and peeks behind the courtains of the tent, tries to sneak backstage and is stopped buy a very fat clown with a big frown on his face. She wanders around, looking for the girl, and the image of her facies gets blurrier by the moment. She’s afraid she’ll forget her before she can ever find her.

The crowd drags her towards one of the tents, where a magician in a tight corset is just bowing her goodbye to the audience. She looks up, smirks at Brittany and then, with a swirl of her cape, lets out a cloud of smoke  and disappears into thin air.

Brittany runs from tent to tent, apologizes to everyone as she pushes past the people, looks around for the black cape and the red skirt falling in a million layers. She sees her just for a  moment, stepping into the stage where the tiger tamer is making the huge cat dance around him (the girl uses her cape to confuse the tiger, makes it follow her for just a few seconds and then lets the cloth fall to the floor and steps back into the crowd, away from Brittany). 

Then she’s with the jugglers, blows a kiss on fire towards Britt and walks away, leaving a trail of flames as her heeled boots bury in the dirty ground. Brittany puts them out as she runs behind her, following the path to the entrance of another tent. 

This one is smaller than the ones with spectacles. It’s as small as the one with the little asian contortionist, like it’s set for an intimate and mysterious show. Brittany doesn’t hesitate for a second. She steps in.

"Hi, Brittany. Have you come for me to read your future?" the woman in read and black asks. And Brittany can finally appreciate how beautiful and dark her eyes are, how magical her grin is. The girl spreads the tarot cards on the table, and speaks again. "So, won’t you pick one? It’s ok, you don’t need to. I see love in your future, it’s written in the lines of your palms."


	5. Hogwarts! Klaine

"This is most definitely the last scroll I am writing in my whole life. I’m going to force Hufflepuffs to do all of my homework from now on," Santana complains, while she plays with a quill between her fingers.

"I can do your homework if you want," Brittany says. Santana rolls her eyes at her fondly, while Quinn and Kurt share a glance with each other. They get that the Slytherin hangs out with two Ravenclaws, but, even though they are currently in a tie with the best grades of their year, they do not understand what is Santana doing with a Huplepuff at their same library table.

"For Merlin’s sake!" Quinn exclaims after a few minutes. She drops her head over the scroll before her, and mumbles, "can someone, please, explain me how do I calculate when the fuck will Saturn and Uranus align?" 

Kurt, fearing that she might throw an Avada Kedavra at herself in frustration, delicately taps her shoulder and passes her his own, finished scroll. “I expect you to help me with Transformations tomorrow, or you’ll die,” he says, though her friend knows that he would do it without anything to win, anyways. She nods anyways.

"Hey, Kurt, did a nargle get in your ear?" Brittany asks a few minutes later, but Kurt is not listening. While all the others try to finish the homework he’s already done with, he stares with a dazed expression at the table nearest to the doors.

"Oh, he doesn’t have a nargle in his ear. He has a Gryffindor in an eye," Santana jokes, pointing to where Blaine Anderson taps his quill rhythmically against the table as he reads from his History book. Kurt blushes and tries to ignore her, pretending to give a second look at his work (even though he knows it’s perfect, he’s already checked). Santana just chuckles and goes back to writing.

"You know, I did an essay on Amortentia last semester. I could help you with that," Quinn finally jumps in, unable to resist the temptation to bother Kurt. (When she laughs from happiness, her golden hair turns a bright blue. When she has any kind of bad intentions, it shines in a bubblegum pink, just like at this very moment).

"Why don’t you two go take a walk in the Forbidden Forest or something?" Kurt growls. He looks up at them, to find Santana carefully folding a paper plane with a part of her Potions essay. Before he can even try to stop her, she taps it with her wand, and the plane flies directly towards Blaine’s head.

The curly Gryffindor boy catches the plane with a curious expression on his face. He looks around to find Kurt, Santana, Quinn and Brittany looking at her (and just in time to see Quinn gesturing Kurt in the universal sign for “he did it”). He smiles, unfolds the scroll and reads it. Then he looks up again, right at Kurt. And nods.

"Oh, Morgana, what the hell did you write?" Kurt mutters. Santana grins so wide that it looks like her lower lip will fall from her face, and Quinn says:

"Oh, nothing, really. We just got you a date with the little lion, this afternoon, by Grenhouse Number Five. I know you love us."


	6. Kurtbastian: "I don't care to beg your pardon"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> in which Kurt _does_ know how to play pool

As usual, it’s Santana’s fault. Fun fact: according to Rachel, all of their memories start with “it was Santana’s fault”. Mostly when they involve dark bars in Brooklyn, shady rap music and a room full of smoke and menacing-looking people. 

"Come on, pussies, they are not gonna bite. Besides, it’s a queer bar. The worst that can happen is that a guy tries to hit on you…" Santana smirks, turning around at the door. "Well, maybe on Kurt. I don’t think anyone with a brain would try to hook up with you, Smythe." She winks an eye towards her friend, and Kurt and her laugh at Sebastian, who scowls and follows them inside.

She enters the place like a hurricane, waving and winking at everyone she knows as she struts her way towards the bar. “Come on, ladies, I am paying tonight. Hey, Tiago! What up? Get me two Shirley Temples with cherries on top for the little butterflies and a Cuba Libre for me, yeah?” Santana yells at the bartender, a wide smirk on her face. The guy grins back at her, and leans over the bar to kiss her on the cheek when she steps closer. 

"Come on, you poor lost souls, what are you actually going to have? Besides years of therapy to overcome the infinite traumas that this jackass must have already caused you." He jokes, and even Sebastian (who is always mad if he doesn’t get to choose where are they going out) smiles. The guy is tall, dark haired and has a strong latin accent, and winks an eye to Kurt after speaking. The smile from his face is erased at that very second, and Sebastian almost growls when he asks for a gin for him and an americano for Kurt. 

"Leave her, you know that’s her way to show affection," Kurt says, touching Sebastian’s shoulder. Sebastian doesn’t bother to say that what annoyed him wasn’t Santana, instead nodding and allowing his friend to lead the way towards one of the tables.

"No way. We are going to play pool, not sit around like old ladies having a tea party!" Santana says, carrying the three drinks with her and trying to catch Kurt’s sleeve at the same time. She fails at grabbing Kurt, but both their friends know that it’s better not to argue with her, so they stand up and follow her. 

Santana prepares the table before they get even a little close, setting the balls and picking the best cue for herself. Kurt picks second and Sebastian the last, scowling because his is a little bent and chipping at the tip. He thinks to himself that, seeing how fast Kurt chose his, he surely got one that is even older and more ruined. Not that he wants to be mean to his friend, but he really doesn’t like to lose.

"Come on, who wants to come first? I’m going to tear you down," Santana says, leaning against the other side of the table. Sebastian wants to go first, but Kurt steps in before him. 

"You know I don’t know how to play, so I’ll go first and then you two can have fun," Kurt says. Sebastian can see Santana smirking, and he decides to bring over one of the bar stools to enjoy the show.

Kurt really doesn’t know how to play. It takes less than ten rounds for Santana to win, because Kurt doesn’t seem to know how to use the cue, and he always aims at the lower side of the ball, making it jump just a little forward. He scratches the white ball three times, and each time Sebastian mockingly raises a toast for him. 

"Kurt, dude, that was sad. So sad I’m inviting you a drink so you can drown yourself in it while I play against Tana," Sebastian says after the game is over. Kurt sticks out his tongue at him, but accepts the drink and sits near the table, with a faint smile on his lips as he watches them play. If Kurt suspects that Santana is letting Sebastian win, he doesn’t say anything. He just sips slowly at his own drink as Sebastian has to ask for another gin to drink gulp after gulp in celebration of each ball he tucks in, and laughs as Santana has to suck it up and listen to Sebastian’s jokes after he’s won.

"Hey, Seb, you should teach me how to play," he says, interrumpting Sebastian before Santana loses her patience and strangles him. Their friend just winks at him and goes to talk to the bartender, while Sebastian accepts happily a chance to prove himself better than Kurt. They are friends, of course, but their friendship would be awfully boring without a little bit of competition.

"Come on, leave the drink. You are bad enough sober," Sebastian says. Kurt feels tempted to roll his eyes (and maybe he does, a little bit) but leaves his glass on the edge of the pool table, and braces himself for a three act play of "Sebastian Smythe is an insufferable know it all". He’s pretty sure that his eighteen years old self would punch Sebastian in the face. 

"First of all, show me how you grab the cue. Because your posture is a disaster. Well, first of all," Sebastian steps closer to where Kurt is leaning against the table, with the cue too close to his torso and his fingers all wrong. The angle is too pronounced, his back arm is too high, the tip is directly on the table, not hovering over it; "you are holding it almost by your shoulder. It should be by your hip, and you need to try to find a balance point. The cue shouldn’t feel too heavy or…" He moves closer, puts a hand on Kurt’s elbow and guides his arm to the correct position. "Now, look, you have to make a good bridge, not… Well, not like that." 

Sebastian grabs another cue to show Kurt the various different ways to set his fingers so he can make an acceptable bridge. Kurt forms and acceptable open bridge with his hand, but Sebastian insists on fixing his fingers himself. (Maybe it’s not the best decision, he thinks. He leans next to Kurt and places a hand over his hand, and his breath catches when Kurt looks up at him. He steps back as if he had just touched something hot.)

"You are pretty fine… I mean, your position is pretty fine now. You should give it a try," he says, after taking a long sip of his gin. "Try to aim at the middle of the cue ball, not too low or too high," he explains. Kurt looks at him just once, biting his lower lip before turning around and doing just as he’s been told. He hits the ball too softly, and it moves barely an inch before stopping. 

"Ok, come here," Sebastian calls, and Kurt walks towards him, looking mildly defeated. Sebastian grabs him by the arm and pulls him closer, until he can put an arm at each side of Kurt’s frame and stand behind him. Another bad idea. "Again, hold the cue," he says, and the realization that he’s talking almost in Kurt’s ear makes him want to whisper, to say any other kind of thing. Instead, he tries to focus on the fact that he is, as a friend, teaching his friend how to play pool. He feels Santana’s stare boring into him. "Look, here," he says, and follows the movement of Kurt’s arm with his to steady his hold on the butt of the cue. "Hold it steady but don’t tense yourself up, or you’ll hit too softly or too strongly," he explains, and leans forward, his chest against Kurt’s back as Kurt settles the cue over the bridge of his fingers and eyes the cue ball. 

It takes three attempts with Sebastian so close and his hands guiding Kurt’s arms for Kurt to actually hit the ball just right and put it in the hole. Kurt cheers loudly and pushes Sebastian back to get free from his hold, and gets his drink back to take a sip from it, and his eyes are smiling. Seb feels like he is going to die from how bad he wants to kiss him, a feeling he hasn’t had, well, since the last time they were drunk and dancing too close together, a few weeks ago. 

"I’m not gonna learn with you marking my every move, though. I think you should play against me," Kurt says, leaning against the table and smirking at Sebastian. And Sebastian accepts, of course, because he loves winning against Kurt. Near the bar, Santana is telling Tiago, "don’t get fooled, honey, Porcelain here is the best pool player in all Ohio. Smythe is going to be crying by the end of the game." 


	7. Kurtbastian

He wakes up slowly, softly. Opening his eyes feels as coming out from a very warm and calm sea, stepping on the hot sand and feeling the water dry off his skin as the sun touches him. But it’s cold, really, and a freezing breath is slipping into the room through the open window. He finally shakes the dizziness out of his eyes and sits up on the bed, surprised to find it empty. 

"Bas?" Kurt calls out loud, pulling at the covers to wrap them around body. It takes a moment for the wind to stop moving the curtains around and let them fall back down, uncovering the balcony door and Sebastian’s frame. Kurt smiles. "Hey. It’s cold, what are you doing?"

Sebastian just shrugs into the coat that covers his naked torso. He’s only wearing that and a pair of jeans, and Kurt thinks that he looks exactly like he did at twenty, smoking a joint at the window of Kurt’s apartment after the first time they slept together. That first time he had answered that he was “just thinking about stuff”. Kurt suspects he is going to do the same now. 

"I was… thinking," he starts, making Kurt rolls his eyes fondly. But he continues. "We should get married more often. This honeymoon thing is great." Sebastian smirks at his husband as Kurt bursts out laughing. 

"I knew you only wanted me for the expensive life and the great sex," Kurt jokes when he can finally stop laughing. Sebastian grins and leaves the window, jumps onto the giant bed and crawls to kiss him. "I love you."

"I love you too, jackass," Kurt answers, kissing him again. And he moves to tangle their hands, the rings clincking as they intertwine their fingers.


	8. Hummelberry

Just as with everything else, love between them started out as a competition. They both crushed on the same guy during High School, and it didn’t stop with him. They weren’t even friends back then, but that changed over shared classes and sing-off’s during Glee Club.

There was Kurt’s High School Sweetheart, there was Rachel’s First College Crush. Rachel won Finn, Kurt won Blaine. Neither of them held a grudge over them. If Finn and Rachel had really gotten married, Kurt had no doubt that he would be their children’s godfather. If Kurt and Blaine hadn’t broken up during Kurt’s first year in New York, Rachel would have been happy to help her best friend choose the engagement ring. 

They loved each other, over everything else. They also loved winning, and their love for competition and victory was just the tinniest bit smaller than they love for the other. 

That’s how they ended with a very close tie at the “Battle to death for Brody’s sexy abs”. And by “very close tie”, they mean threesome. Not the most romantic context for a first kiss, really, but the alcohol made it flow. Even though he didn’t get much attention that night, Brody very much enjoyed the show they both put for him (after all, they were performers by nature). 

Nothing happened again between them for a very, very long time. Brody said that he had had a lot of fun “experimenting” with Kurt, and got into a serious relationship with Rachel. They were together for four months. Kurt went out with Rachel two nights after the break up. They made up drunkenly against the bar for a very long time, and Kurt didn’t know how he ended up waking on some pretty blonde’s bed the next morning. His name was Adam, and they became friends while talking in his bed, and boyfriends after a particularly good fuck. Rachel made a bet with Quinn that they wouldn’t last longer than two months, but they lasted six. When Kurt heard about the fifty bucks that Rachel owed Quinn, he laughed for a week. He won that time, and the joy of victory almost made him forget about how much the break up ached him. Rachel sleeping next to him for the next few days numbed the rest of the pain.

The next time, Rachel won. It started at a New DIrections’ reunion party, and Santana wanted to create a riot. She always did, really. That night’s idea was a pretty mixed up version of the “gay chicken” and what she called the “straight chicken”. After watching Sam and Puck make out for almost a minute, kissing Mike and trying (and failing) to get Mercedes and Tina to kiss; she decided that making Kurt awkward would be even funnier. “Since you are so much like siblings that it will almost be incest, why don’t you two Broadway stars share a little of spit?” she said, making everyone cringe at her words. She had expected them to make a big drama out of refusing, but Rachel only hesitated a second before confidently straddling Kurt’s lap and moving in to kiss him. It took Kurt a little more to get into it, but it wasn’t even a minute. He kissed back fiercely, grabbing at her narrow waist and taking a hold on the back of her neck. During the (definitely not few) retellings of that night, he had to agree that Rachel had won by a very long shot. Mostly because of advantages propper of her sex, really, but she didn’t need to run to the bathroom to get off after that.

The first time they had sex (just the two of them, this one time), it got a little competitive too. Who won was for years a matter of strong (and mostly drunken) arguments. Between records of orgasms and records of stamina; they never came to an agreement. 

They don’t count the first one to say “I love you”, because they had been saying so since High School, just as friends. But Kurt always swore that Rachel was the first one to have an attack of jealousy, and Rachel never let him outlive the fact that his way to officially ask her out was with the very romantic line of “I give up! This is dumb, you know I only want to be with you. So, would you be my girlfriend?” They proposed at the first time. At the exact same time. Kurt later insisted that he won, because he was actually carrying the ring with him. 

Rachel was the first one to get into NYADA, but Kurt got a real role at a Broadway show the first. Rachel was the first one to act in Wicked, but she enjoyed a lot more that time where Kurt was her Fiyero at a very small production at a community theatre. 

At the end, Rachel wasn’t able to win the power to decide what her wedding dress would be. Kurt chose the designer that would choose it, just to please her and not see it until the actual ceremony. But, in her vows, she started with: “After all, I think I won. Not only it’s more merit to be the only woman you will ever love, but I won at everything else. I won the best friend forever I’ve always wanted, I won the perfect role in the perfect life I’ve always dreamed of. I don’t think nothing will ever feel quite as good as this. Well, maybe winning an Oscar would, but…”


	9. Klaine (meet in the summer)

You’re so beautiful. The first time I saw you, walking past my window with the sun just behind you. I thought you were an angel, laughing at whatever your friend’s joke was, with a halo of summer surrounding you. 

I saw you again at the beach. You always wore shorts and a shirt, and stayed out of the sun. When I first talked to you, you told me you hated summer freckles. You had them anyways, and I wanted to kiss each one of them. 

I saw you again at the karaoke bar, where you got up the stage with your friend (her name is Rachel, you told me, and she’s a little crazy but you won’t be able to help loving her. I wasn’t able to keep myself from loving you, to be honest, but she seemed cool too). You both sang a song from Wicked and a guy invited you a drink. I sang Teenage Dream, do you remember? And you laughed, and shared that drink with me. 

I had plans. It was my first summer in California, I wanted to fool around and enjoy being an adult and everything. You unmade them all, because I fell for you from the first moment and my plan turned into making you fall in love with me. I wanted to stay with you for all of the summer and, then, maybe, forever. 

I kissed you with the sea on our feet, and it was the best kiss of my life. Except for all the other kisses I shared with you. During that summer, your hair turned almost golden because of the sun, and I could kiss every new freckle that was born on the bridge of your nose. 

I lied a bit, I invented a better adolescence than the one I had. You seemed too cool for me, with your New York life and your Broadway dreams. When I told you the truth you laughed at me again. But you always laugh at my bad jokes too, so I didn’t care. You always make me feel like you are laughing with me.

And you held my hand while we walked on the beach, and no one told us anything, and I felt braver than ever. I was 21 and I felt like I could hold the world in my chest when I was with you. We got drunk with Rachel, and she said that Vodka tasted like sunsets and was our “priest” when we pretended to get married on the beach.

And now I walk around New York looking for you, and I hope to see your eyes at every corner but never find you. I know I will, though. And this time I’ll ask you to marry me for real. 


	10. Blangst (with side Quinn/Blaine and Kurt/Blaine)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> warnings for violence and homophobia

People write in diaries, people write in blogs. Sometimes, people don’t have anything to write about. 

When Blaine was a child, he had a diary. He had a diary and a crush on a boy from his class, but Cooper laughed because the diary was so girly. Cooper laughed about his clothes and about his singing too but, when  _they_  found it, they didn’t laugh. They circled him in the parking lot and beat him until he couldn’t even open his eyes and broke three of his fingers. He wasn’t able to write for a very long time.

When he transferred to Dalton he started writing in a blog. Completely blank, completely anonymous. White text over a white background and nothing that would reveal who he was. He blended in, he always wore a shirt during P.E. to hide the scars on his back and chest. The two broken ribs healed but he still felt an ache when he ran, and he blamed on it the fact that he stopped singing. 

He fell in love with a boy that transferred during his second year, but never wrote about it. They were best friends for a very long time, but the boy was more courageous than him and went back to his school. He won the Nationals with his school’s Glee Club and then moved to New York to chase his dreams. They kept talking every now and then for years, but Blaine never really stopped loving him and, one day, he just cut all contact. He thought that it would stop hurting if he did so, but it didn’t. Sometimes he would see the boy’s name on the cover of a magazine and feel like crying, but he didn’t shed a tear.

In Law School he met a girl. She was his best friend, she never asked about the scars. They started dating when they were 19 and got married at 21. In a spectacles magazine he saw that the boy he fell in love with during High School was getting married to an actor the same week he was getting married to Quinn. He had abandoned his blog after graduating from Dalton, but he wrote on it one last time. He wrote a love letter, sent it nowhere, written in white ink on a white page. And never wrote again. 


	11. Brittana (are getting married)

“ _I believe that madness is the deepest link of love_ ”

 

"I don’t know what to write. Really, I don’t. She probably has the prettiest vows ever, I’m sure they are all in rhymes and she compares loves to fucking clouds and unicorns. And it makes sense. But, come on, the best song I ever wrote was Thouty Mouth. I rap, I don’t do all this cutesy shit, I…"

"Santana, calm the fuck down," Quinn interrupts, putting a hand over her hand  and stopping her nervous scribbling on the page. She’s the bridesmaid, and has had the, uh, let’s call it honor, of helping Santana choose her dress, choose the son she’s going to sing for Brittany and, worst of all, write the vows.

"God, Q, I’m going fucking crazy. Maybe this is all wrong. That’s the problem with us. She always makes me go crazy. Love isn’t supposed to do that, is it? I would turn around the whole fucking world for her, just to make her smile. I’m pretty sure that I love her so much I’ve gone insane," Santana stops talking, huffs and hides her face on her hands. Quinn sighs, takes the pen from her hands and writes down exactly what she’s just said. With just a little less curses, those will be the perfect vows.


	12. Klaine (and ruined proposals)

Kurt enters the apartment with a sigh of relief, closes the door with his left foot and drops all his folders on the couch. He lets his satchel fall next to the coffee table, lets his head fall to the side and cracks his neck. The day’s been pretty hard on him, working all morning while Vogue was a complete madhouse because of the Spring Season Issue; and rehearsing all afternoon for the presentation that will define if he passes or not his Coreography class. He’s exhausted, and everything he wants is to get some coffee and lie in bed until Blaine comes home from his classes.

He hears in then. Something falling to the floor, a grumble. It comes from the bathroom, and he walks silently towards it. He sneaks through the half open door, half expecting to find a robber and half expecting to find Santana setting a trap for them; but he finds Blaine instead. His boyfriend is sitting on the floor, holding some kind of fishing rod made out of a keychain, a small magnet that was on the refrigerator’s door, a paper clip and a pencil. He’s crouching over the shower’s drain, and Kurt can hear him mutter “you friggin’ asshat” at whatever he’s looking at. 

Kurt, intrigued, leans against the door frame and stays quiet. He doesn’t have to wait for long to find what Blaine is doing: with a “yes!”, his boyfriend takes the “fishing rod” away from the drain. He leans back just a bit, and Kurt can see what is hanging from it: hooked at the paper clip that’s stuck by the magnet to the tip of the keychain, there’s a gorgeous silver ring. Just then Kurt notices the empty blue velvet box sitting on the edge of the sink. His breath catches at his throat, and Blaine seems to sense him near. He turns around, still on the floor, and looks up at him with big puppy eyes.

"Kurt…" He starts, looking like a kid that has been catched drawing a card for his Valentine. Kurt smiles, and Blaine smiles back. "Well, it seems like, the more I rehearse it, the worse it’ll come out. So…" Blaine shuffles on the floor until he’s no longer sitting, but kneeling right before his boyfriend. "I know we haven’t even finished college and this is dumb and rushed and everything but… Would you marry me?"


	13. Quaine (with Skank!Quinn)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> klaine friendship, of course

"Blaine, I would really appreciate it if you told me why do you have Sex Pistols and… Civet? Oh my god. Why is this in your Ipod." Kurt stops scrolling down the playlist and looks up to Blaine, who’s suddenly blushing. "Uh?"

"I’m just… Trying to listen to new music, you know?" He says, while he tries to snatch the Ipod from his best friend’s hands. Kurt avoids him and keeps scrolling down.

"God, where is Katy Perry? What happened to you?" He asks, half mocking, half serious. Now Kurt is really curious. "Are you sure that this is yours? Didn’t you accidentally swap it with somebody else?"

Blaine tries again to get his Ipod back, and this time Kurt isn’t so fast. They struggle for a few seconds, until Kurt lets go, and Blaine raises his hands in a sign of victory. He accidentally presses play, and, since the headphones are unplugged, a Rise Against song starts playing really loud. A few people at the nearest lunch tables turn to look at him, and he tries clumsily to pause it again, blushing even more than before.

"Oh, nice song, Anderson. I thought you only listened to shitty pop." Quinn Fabray says, grinning down at him as she walks by, with a cigarette behind her left ear and a studded shirt just as pink as her hair. 

Kurt, seeing Blaine go red from the base of his neck to the line of his hair, starts laughing. The music has not yet been paused when he manages to gasp “I can’t believe you have a crush on Quinn Fabray.”


	14. Kum (at holidays!)

Thanksgiving at the Hummel-Hudson house might be Sam’s favorite thing in the entire world. Everyone sings Holiday songs, Kurt and Finn argue about dinner, Carole insists on putting all the Holiday Specials on TV, jumping from one channel to the other; while Burt tries to get a hold on the remote and leave the sports channel with little to no success. 

Kurt loves decorating for the Holidays, and he bosses Sam and Finn around so he doesn’t have to break a nail carrying anything heavy or climbing high places. Sam knows that Kurt could do everything by himself without having a single strand of hair out of his coiffure, but Kurt likes way too much just planning everything and leaving the hard work for them. 

Even Finn’s attempts at finding Rachel a good Hannuka/Christmas gift are amusing. Sam already got gifts for everyone (they are second hand or handmade, and he really really hopes that Kurt won’t find tacky or ugly the jacket he got and painted for him. It has a stencil of Elphaba on the back, and Sam wanted to paint the lyrics of one of the Wicked songs on the arms, but he was pretty sure that he would mess them up, so he left it at the drawing), and Kurt must have spent all of his savings getting pretty clothes and bags and accessories for the entire Glee club. 

But the reason why this Thanksgiving is his favorite has nothing to do with getting the Christmas gifts, or the decorations or Kurt and Carole’s delicious food. Just with the Turkey, and the wishbone, and Kurt’s smile when they both go to break it. 

Sam wants to wish that he will kiss Kurt and Kurt will kiss him back, but the bigger part ends up in Kurt’s hand. Sam tries really, really hard not to look defeated, and the dinner is over before Finn can blackmail Kurt’s wish out of him. Sam wonders why Kurt keeps looking at him.

It’s when they are going to sleep that he decides that it doesn’t really matter if he got his wish or not. Finn has already headed upstairs, Burt and Carole are at the kitchen. At the start of the stairs, Kurt turns around to say something to Sam, and he takes the chance. 

Kurt gasps against his mouth before responding, Sam can feel a hand grasping at the back of his neck. It’s not a long kiss, just the time for their lips to slide together and Kurt to pull him barely closer before he steps back.

"Wow, and I thought that wishbones were dumb," Kurt says, smiling at him, and Sam has never been more thankful on a Holiday.


	15. Kum (on Christmas)

A bowl of cereal, a down comforter, and a pair of socks. Kurt doesn’t plan on making a big deal of this Holidays. Or anything at all. He’s just going to curl up on the couch and read the script for his Classic Tragedies class, maybe have one coffee or two (or three, or four) and read Vogue with the excuse that it’s for work. 

He’s not going back to Ohio for Christmas. After all, his dad is in DC, Finn doesn’t get that week off of training this year, Carole will be busy in the hospital… He really doesn’t have any reasons to go. (Sam went back to visit his parents, and Lima always looks so sad when he’s not there to light it up.)

 _Murad’s new collection is kind of lame_ , he thinks. He loves Gaga, but she _should start using other designers besides McQueen A.S.A.P_ , he tweets, and leaves his phone back on the floor besides the couch. The script has been abandoned under a pillow about an hour ago, and he promises himself “ _just one more article and I’ll go back to it_ " every time he turns a page of his magazine. 

The knock on the door is definitely unexpected. Sure that Rachel got to the airport only to realize she forgot her favorite, glittery pink microphone back home, and decided to go back, he gets up with a groan and goes to open the door. He’s wearing yoga pants, a huge sweater stolen from Finn and a pair of Star Wars socks that he knows were Sam’s ages ago, but now are his. His hair is mostly undone, but Rachel already knew of his plans (and chastised him about them for a bit before giving up), so she won’t say anything. He peeks through the peephole, and sees one of Rachel’s suitcases and the shoulder of her black coat. 

"Rach, if you came back for your tedd…" he starts, but has to stop mid sentence and mid eye roll. Because the blue suitcase has the stamp of a blue alien and the black coat covers a pair of shoulders notoriously wider than Rachel’s. Well, really, he has to stop because Sam Evans is smiling at him. 

"Happy holidays," Sam is saying, and New York is the brightest it’s ever been, because Sam is kissing him. 


	16. Kurtbastian (teacher/student AU at college)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> teacher!sebastian (not underage kurt, but there's an age difference)

From Satan:  _dis suxxxxs_

Kurt looks up from his phone. Santana seems to be taking notes like a good, responsible student. Her phone is nowhere to be seen. He hides his under the table, so Mr. Smythe won’t see him texting, and writes back: 

From Porcelain:  _you don’t say. and we still have to go with rach to her audition._

From Satan:  _fun fun fun. if u were more fun i wld invite u 2 do smth more interestng._

Kurt smirks. Santana has always been a bad influence during high school, but she’s gotten her head on getting Kurt to “get a bit loose” before their Freshman year in NYU is over, and she’s not so far from it. 

From Porcelain:  _who do you mean by “something”?_

Santana snorts, though it’s still not visible where is she hiding her phone. Kurt tries his best, but he can’t locate it. He assumes that she’s got it under her skirt, but can’t see her typing from this angle. His phone vibrates again.

From Satan:  _i kno u want 2 do mr smythe. wldnt that b more fun thn this class?_

He’s already typed “ _definitely_   _a lot more fun_ " when the professor stops his pacing around the room, stops the lecture his giving, and taps his shoulder. He feels his stomach do a flip.

"Your phone, Mr. Hummel. You know the rules."

Kurt gulps and hands his phone to young, sexy and smirking Mr. Smythe, who he knows only prescribed the use of cellphones during his class to annoy the students and not because he really cares. The professor raises an eyebrow as he lets his eyes scan over the screen that Kurt just locked. He grins down at his student, presses the unlock button, and reads. 

Kurt curses the day he decided that putting a screen lock was unnecessary. 


	17. Kurtbastana for Kristy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 'straight chicken' and drunk threesomes

(The first time is just a game. They are drunk and bored and Rachel isn’t there to judge them. These are the things one has to do in college, dumb drunken adventuring into threesomes, discovering other sexual orientations).

Santana calls it “straight chicken”. Because she’s bored and sex deprived and wants someone to make out with, basically. Sebastian accepts because he’s unable to reject any challenge she proposes, and Kurt just joins because Santana actually threatens him with moving in with Sebastian and leaving him to find a roommate as boring as himself.

First it's Sebastian kissing Santana (Kurt should be the one that judges who retreats first, but he forgets about it when just watching gets too mesmerizing, and maybe a minute passes, maybe ten). They start rough, they both dive in to kill. Getting slower and deeper as they find each other’s taste. Santana bites on Sebastian’s tongue, he sucks on her lower lip, and Kurt takes a sip out of the bottle of wine without getting his eyes away from the way that Santana runs her tongue around Sebastian’s upper lip. (Wins Santana, because Sebastian can feel himself getting too turned on and backs away. She celebrates with an entire cup of wine).

Santana insists that Kurt and Sebastian almost count as a straight chicken, since they seem to dislike each other so much that they would turn straight just to get away from the other. If she has other intentions than seeing two pretty guys making out, she’s very good at hiding them. (It only takes Sebastian sucking on Kurt’s tongue, and the high moan that escapes between their joined lips, to make him quit and assure Sebastian an easy win).

And, though Santana says that “I know Kurt looks like a girl but he’s most definitely not my type”, Sebastian enjoys almost ten minutes of slow and sensual making out before Kurt’s back hits the rim of the table and the spell is broken, making him push lightly at Santana’s waist so she steps away. 

(When she arrives from Jesse’s next morning, Rachel finds the three of them tangled in a mess of pillows and blankets in the living room’s floor, but the perspective doesn’t let her guess more than that they passed out watching some movie. The boxers stained with come and the fact that Santana’s panties are still hanging from her left ankle is not discussed ever again.)


End file.
